


Sam Gets His

by hismementomori



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-05 08:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14613516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hismementomori/pseuds/hismementomori
Summary: Dean’s happy and getting married. Sam’s happy he’s happy, but can’t help but to want it, too. And then he meets you.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in a Sam mood today. I might make this into a series. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd.

Sam’s happy that Dean found his happy ever after, he deserves it. She’s a great woman and loves him unconditionally, even when his brother gets into his self-hate mode and drowns himself in whiskey, she’s there. She gets him out of his hole and gets him to be happy.

His life has changed because of it, too. The mood in the bunker is different, far more relaxing than it ever was and it might be because of the little touches she’s made to the place. There are always fresh flowers on the table from the meadow nearby that were picked out by her and Jack. And somehow, the woman gets the entire dungeon smelling like fresh laundry and a spring afternoon, even when the brothers came stumbling in covered in ghoul guts.

Sam is happy that Dean is happy. And Sam also might be a little jealous.

It’s a little selfish of him to want the same thing because he feels like he deserves it, too. After all, he’s gone through all the bullshit Dean has. Hell, maybe even a little bit more. But feeling that kind of entitlement makes him feel guilty and ashamed, so he pushes it away and lives vicariously through Dean’s smiles and happy snorts whenever he receives a lovey-dovey text.

But then comes the salt and burn in an asylum in north Texas. It’s just another legend that gets teenagers sneaking in and going missing. Sam wanted to take the case and Dean readily agrees, his fiance not minding in the least to have the older Winchester gone for days, especially for a straightforward hunt.

The two walk the dark corridors, rock salt shot guns in hand, Dean taking the lead. They round the corner and end up face to face, gun to gun with you and your brother. And that’s when the arguing starts, Dean telling you that they’ve got it handled, but you counter saying you were there first. It was a kindergarten argument which Sam and your brother find slightly amusing and stay out of it until you try to wrangle your brother into agreeing with you, Dean doing the same with Sam.

But being the level-headed one, Sam insists that you all work together. Four heads are better than two and you could cover more ground if you both just suck it up and deal with it like adults. There are heavy sighs and rolling of eyes, but eventually you and Dean agree, but only if you go with Sam and Dean takes your brother.

You have no objection and your brother reluctantly goes along with the older Winchester.

“Is he always like that,” you ask, annoyance still bubbling in your veins.

Sam chuckles and shrugs, shotgun still at the ready. “He just wants the job done so he can get back home,” he explains, “so he’s afraid this will slow him down.” You turn to him, eyebrow raised and he grimaces. “When you’ve been through what we have, everyone still seems a little green.”

You roll your eyes and shrug, couldn’t blame him too much then. “Well, at least you seem nice enough,” you grin and the pair of you turn the corner.

He laughs again, now with a full smile, dimples and all, “Thanks, I guess.”

You search through each room, Sam taking point, you watching his back like a professional, not because it’s straining against the canvas of his jacket like he’s seconds from hulking out. So, finding the teenagers are your priority, the ghosts are the job, the view is just a perk.

Room after room you to search with nothing to show for it. “Up or down,” you ask when you reach a door to a stairwell.

Sam’s brow pinches as he considers it, thinking of what direction Dean would choose. “Down,” he picks, shouldering open the door and holding it open for you.

You slip by with a thanks and check the stairwell before making your way down. “I’m afraid of the dark,” you tell him as black completely engulfs you, save for the puny white dots that your flashlights give off.

“You’re in the wrong business then,” Sam teases, keeping close to you and his light on the steps so neither of you trip and fall.

You nod to yourself, knowing he’s not wrong and you reach the door to the next floor. You pull it open, let him through, and he smiles down at you as he passes. “What’s your biggest fear?”

“I didn’t know we were playing a game,” he counters, pushing open the first door he sees and looks around.

“Humor me.”

He sighs and searches the room with you at his back, “Dying alone.”

The answer is so raw and earnest that it takes your breath away a little. “That’s a good one,” you find yourself saying and immediately regretting it. He looks over his shoulder at you, face unreadable. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head and exits the room and goes on to the next. “For as haunted as this place is, we haven’t found anything. No cold spots, no sounds, nothing.”

You frown, looking up and down the hallway, “Maybe they’re bugging your brother.”

Sam grins at that and searches the room like the last and keeps moving. “How long have you been hunting,” he asks. Everyone’s got in the life somehow and he feels slightly guilty for asking because it’s nearly always a horror story.

“A few years,” you answer with a shrug. “Wendigo.” Sam remains silent. “My dad wanted to go camping for the first time,” you keep going, pushing open the next door and Sam clears it. “It got him, my mom, our oldest brother.” He moves out and to the next, you enter and clear. “We didn’t know what we were doing, but we eventually set it on fire… somehow. I… I can’t remember much.” Tears threaten to spill but you fight them back. “Just kind of fell into it, you know?”

You see Sam’s jaw clench and you smile up at him, nudging his shoulder with the butt of your gun. “It’s fine,” you assure him. “Don’t get teary eyed on me.”

He breathes a laugh and you two keep moving down the hall. “Y/N,” he stops you in the hall and you freeze, both of you kicking into hunter mode. There’s a loud metal bang down where you just came from and the two of you turn on a dime, guns ready.

There’s scraping along the floor and you two walk in tandem to find it. You found the room where the sound is coming from and Sam takes the lead, eyebrows raised and you nod. He opens the door slowly and you tiptoe in, finding a room full of lockers. It looked like a employee changing room, some clothes and scrubs still lining some, others locked tight.

Sam carefully closes the door and in just two long strides he’s ahead of you, face fiercely focused. You clear the first two rows of lockers, one of you at each end. The scratching starts and again in the middle of the third row and that’s where you meet. You grab for the locker handle and Sam has his gun ready, you silently count to three and throw open the door.

The raccoon hisses and lunges at Sam and he barely dodges the thing. “Cheese and crackers,” you gasp, your heart pounding a mile a minute.

Sam’s laughing and trying to calm himself down, lips twitching around his chuckles.

“What,” you try to frown, but his laughter is contagious.

“Cheese and crackers,” he repeats.

Your brow pinches and you shove at his shoulder, pushing passed him as his laughter continues. “It’s not ladylike to curse.”

He hums behind you as you both continue to look through the room. “You’re the epitome of ladylike, are you?”

You toss your hair and turn your nose up at him, lips pursed, “Yes.”

“Then forgive me, my lady,” he says in the worst British accent you’ve heard yet.

You visibly cringe and the both of you are laughing again, “Please never do that again.” That earns a dimpled smile and you want to melt on the spot. “Now stop goofin’, Sammy, we’ve got a job to do.”

Sam opens his mouth for a moment, but it closes and he nods. You two fall into a comfortable silence when you end downstairs to the next floor, repeating your clearing of rooms and finding nothing. “I’m starting to doubt that there’s anything going on here.”

“Police reports don’t lie,” you shrug, kicking a soccer ball you found in the hallway. This must be the children’s ward and your heart aches a little.

Sam’s silent, but he continues to follow you, close, but that’s probably his hunter’s instinct.

You find a tipped over trash can and you line up the shot. “She shoots…” you kick, it makes it nowhere near the can and you threw up your hands in victory, “she misses. It’s expected from the rookie, but she’ll get ‘em next time.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” Sam teases, walking passed you to search for the ball, “you shouldn’t even be the league.”

“I didn’t take you for a sports snob,” you laugh, catching the ball when he throws it.

Sam rejoins you, stopping half an arm’s length in front of you and shrugs, “I’m not. You just suck.”

“Yeah, I do,” you laugh and wriggle your brows and he chokes on air for a moment. “Did I make it weird?”

He looks down, but he’s smiling and shakes his head, “No, you didn’t.”

You return the smile and toss the ball at his chest. He doesn’t bother to catch it and it falls between you, bouncing. “We should keep looking.”

“I am looking,” you tell him, “but yeah, we should keep searching. I’m sure your brother is worried about you.”

Sam bites at his lip and you walk around him to the next room. There’s a slight blush on your cheeks, but you keep yourself together. You can’t go falling for the guy, not in your line of business, and he has to know that, too. But, then again, flirting was harmless. And even though you’re on a hunt with people’s lives in danger, you’re enjoying yourself for the first time in a very long time.

There’s an dirty, broken doll on the bed in the next room you go in and you immediately turn and walk out, running into Sam’s broad chest when you do. “Something wrong,” he asks, easily looking over you head into the room.

“I don’t do dolls,” you simple state, poking him in the stomach and slip around him.

Sam curls his upper half around the poke, hip checking you when you pass. “It’s just plastic,” he snorts, double checking the room before following you.

“Your face is just plastic,” you childishly quip.

“Words hurt, Y/N,” Sam says woundedly, face twisted into an almost painful puppy-eyed pout.

You sigh and take in a deep, shaky breath, fighting back fake tears. “I’m sorry, Sam,” you make your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean it. Your face is beautiful,” you add, rushing to him and tightly hug his torso.

He instantly wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. “I forgive you,” he says quietly, still holding you close. “But only if you let me take you to dinner when this is done.” You stiffen a little in his hold and he notices, releasing you almost instantly. “Or did I read this completely wrong?”

You shake your head, eyes wide. “No! No, you didn’t,” you reassure him. “It’s just… you know how this is, Sam. One night stands or quickies in a Stop ‘n Go parking lot…”

“Romantic,” he jokes.

“Stop it,” you shove at his chest. “I can tell you’re a good guy and I know I wouldn’t wanna just give you up after one night.” He smiles at that, cheeks flushing a little, but he’s staring right at you. “I’m being serious, Sam. C’mon, it won’t work.”

“Dean makes it work,” he insists. “They’re getting married in two months. They’ve made it work.”

“Does she hunt?” He doesn’t answer, so you know what that means. “I’m not going to give up doing this, not for a stud like you, not for anyone.”

Sam steps into your space, but he keeps his hands to himself even though you see his hands twitching to reach out for you. “Then we’ll hunt together, keep each other safe.”

“You planning our wedding already, too,” you deflect with a joke.

Sam slightly laughs, “Maybe. I’m thinking spring.”

“In a meadow full of white flowers,” you nod. “You in a light grey suit and a pale yellow tie.”

He gives into the temptation and ghosts a hand down the side of your face, but curls a finger under your chin. “You in a beautiful, white sundress, feet bare and wearing a flower crown.” Your eyes flutter close and you raise on your toes a little, meeting his lips in the middle. It’s light, barely even there, but it’s got you dizzy and breathless.

And then Sam’s phone rings. He groans as you open your eyes and he gives you the most apologetic smile you’ve ever seen. “Yeah?”

“We ganked the ghost and found the kids, you done screwing around,” you hear Dean’s voice from the phone echo down the empty hallway.

“Yeah,” he sighs into the phone. “We’ll meet you out front.” They end the call without saying goodbye and you both know the moment between you has come and gone. “So?”

“There’s a cafe in town,” you nod, “makes one hell of a veggie egg white omelette.” That earns you a smile and he nods his head down the hall with you on his heels.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sam have been official for a couple of months. He misses you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Sam. Also, I’m taking requests because I want more to write. Sam, Dean, maybe John and Rowena (x Reader), ask me: https://hismementomori.tumblr.com/ask. Will do fluff and beyond, friends.

When Sam tells you that you guys could make it work, you are unsure at first, but somehow, it does.

 

The first few dates are scattered over a couple months. You keep in constant contact, texting throughout the day, Facetiming at night, but you could only meet up between hunts and only when you were within a state or two of each other. It’s hard, but it works.

 

It’s two in the morning when you get a text from Sam.

 

**Can’t sleep, Dean’s snoring.**

 

Roll him over. Plug his nose. Shoot him. Doesn’t have to be in that order.

 

**Where are you?**

 

Florida, poltergeist. You?

 

**Missouri, don’t know yet.**

 

**I miss you, Y/N/N.**

 

I miss you, too, Sammy. When we wrap this up, I’ll head your way, give you a hand.

 

**Just your hand?**

 

You’re a naughty one, Mr. Winchester.

 

**You like it. But I won’t say no to help. Dean might.**

 

Dean can eat me.

 

**I might have some objection to that.**

 

Just some?

 

**All the objections, then.**

 

Thought so. Call me?

 

Your phone lights up with the request to Facetime and you happily accept. You’re in the room by yourself, sitting at the small table, research spread around you and your brother is passed out on his bed on the other side of the room. When the call connects, you see the exhausted face of Sam, dark circles under his eyes, scruff growing on his beautiful face. “Hey you,” you great, adjusting your reading glasses, your head in your hand, the other one gripping your phone as if someone might try to take your Sam away.

 

“Hey, beautiful,” he says quietly. He’s laying on his side, phone probably propped up on the pillow next to him, the only light in the room is the glow of his phone. His hair frames his face, a little wild from sleep, but it still looks soft and you want to run your hands through it, but you’re thousands of miles away and you can’t. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

 

You lift your shoulder in a half shrug, “Gotta keep my man company.”

 

He gives you a sleepy smile, one dimple in plain view, the other hidden by his pillow. “Have the dream again,” he’s concerned and he knows you hate talking about it, but he’s leaving it up to you.

 

“Maybe,” you reply, worrying your lip with your teeth, “but it’s no big deal.” 

 

He leaves it at that and shifts on the bed, sighing as he tucks an arm underneath his pillow. “You can keep working, just wanna watch you.”

 

“If you weren’t so hot, that’d be really creepy,” you snort, but do your best to set up your phone where he can see you and you can keep an eye on him. “We salted and burned who we thought was the Poltergeist, but we were wrong. Or the information I found was wrong.”

 

Sam hums.

 

“I hate research,” you complain. “It’s so boring.”

 

“Need my help,” he offers, ready to get out of bed to do whatever he can.

 

You shake your head and fight back a yawn with sip from your third coffee of the night. “You need your rest, so hush, mister, and lay there.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles, wriggling down in the sheets. 

 

You continue on with your work, the only sounds between you were the clicks of your mouse and keyboard. From the corner of your eye you can see Sam still awake, even a half hour into your call. “I haven’t bored you to sleep,” you grin, forcing yourself to take a break and rub at your eyes.

 

“Nope,” he mumbles, voice deep and thick with sleep. 

 

“Then how do I get you to sleep,” you yawn, crossing your arms on the table and resting your chin on top.

 

“Come here and let me hold you?” His voice sounds pleading and you want nothing more than to drop everything and be there for him. Your heart hurts and you don’t know how to react to that.

 

“I wish, baby,” you sigh, jaw clenching and fingers itching. You want to be in bed next to him with every fiber of your being, but you can’t, at least not tonight. He nods, hair falling into his face when he does. You instinctively reach out and try to tuck it behind his ear, but the screen stops you. There’s a small, sad smile on his face when he realizes you can’t touch him, so he tucks it for you. “Thanks.”

 

There’s a rumble in his throat and he reaches out to his phone and tries to run his fingers down your face, but like you, he’s stopped by his screen. Your face twists into a sad smile and you blow a kiss at him. “It’s been so long since I’ve tasted your lips,” he whispers. “I almost forget how they feel on mine.”

 

“Are you trying to break my heart,” you whine, hiding your face away from him.

 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he breathes. “Please look at me?” He sounds so weak and vulnerable that your face immediately snaps up to him. “I would never break your heart - ever.” The intentionally was unspoken, but you both knew it was there, sometimes it just came with the job.

 

“I know,” you nod and smile. It takes a few seconds, but one slowly grows on his face, too. “Want me to sing you to sleep?”

 

That earns a chuckle and he shakes his head once, “You’re amazing and beautiful and one of the best damn hunters I’ve met, but you couldn’t carry a tune even if it was in a bucket.”

 

You playfull narrow your eyes and his smile widens, “What was that about not breaking my heart?”

 

His body shakes with silent laughter and a big, bright smile breaks out on your face. “If we can’t be honest with each other, then we shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

 

“Yeah,” you squeak, sitting up and bringing the phone with you as you sit back and pull off your glasses, “but you can be gentle!”

 

His sweet, tired face immediately hardens, a devilish smirk replacing his boyish smile, voice dropping half an octave, “I thought you liked it hard.”

 

Your breath catches in your throat and you stare at him with flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. “Sam,” you sigh, your eyes flicker to your sleeping brother several feet away. 

 

“Something wrong, baby,” he asks innocently, back to Boy Scout mode.

 

Your body crumbles in the chair, forehead hitting the table with a loud thud, “I hate you.”

 

“Be careful,” Sam frowns, you can’t see him, but you hear it in his voice.

 

When you sit back up, your rub the red spot on your head. “Stop being a tease then,” you pout, getting up from the table to crawl into bed. You mirror his position and sigh when your body’s finally all stretched out and comfortable. 

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he winks. 

 

You huff and puff out your cheeks, “I double hate you.”

 

Sam just hums and you watch him as his eyes roam your face. “I’m sorry, do you forgive me?”

 

Your gaze narrows as you pretend to think it over. “If you come here and kiss me,” you reply. That makes his face fall and you immediately regret your words. “I forgive you,” you gush. “No one’s ever forgiven you as much as I forgive you.”

 

It’s too late and the damage is done, he’s pining, but so are you. “I love you,” he says so quietly that you almost miss it. He’s afraid and you know why, he’s told you everything. But he’s not the only one, you’re scared out of your mind when it comes to how you feel about him. He’s constantly on your mind and it almost hurts to be away from him so much. And if you lost him… you couldn’t bear to think about it.

 

“I love you, too, baby,” you whisper back.

 

“I’ve talked to Dean,” he says with a sniffle, you can see the tears in his eyes and you feel the sting of your own, “what do you think about moving in?” That catches you off guard and you blink at your screen. “Your brother can come, too. There’s plenty of room.”

 

You can’t answer for your brother, but you sit up in bed, getting on your hands and knees in front of the phone, “Yes! I’ll leave right now, dammit.”

 

Sam’s laughing, eyes sparkling as you bounce on the mattress in your excitement. “You’ve got a case and so do we, Y/N,” he reminds you.

 

You snatch your phone and summersault off the bed and back to the table. “I’m getting rid of this damn thing and we’re coming to help you,” you decide, “then I’m going to get SO many cuddles it’s not even funny.”

 

“I can’t wait,” Sam laughs, over the moon and in love.

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You move into the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NSFW. 
> 
> And I haven't written smut in a very long time. Sorry if it's... lacking.

You’ve never lived with someone other than your family before now. It’s stressful to get in the groove of things, to get used to small nuances of another person and try to find your own in a shared space. It’s exciting, but frustrating at the same time. But despite how difficult the adjustment is, you’re happy.

Like stupid happy.

Like sick, puppy love, ugly baby talk happy.

Like so happy, in fact, that you sleep in for the first time in forever, Sam pressing up firmly against your back, his bare form against yours. Well, you’re not sleeping, exactly, just laying in bed, enjoying the warm breath of your boyfriend hitting the back of your neck, his stubble scratching lightly against your skin as he shifts impossibly closer.

“You said you were going to sleep ‘til noon,” Sam’s tired gruff comes from behind you, his lips brush against the base of your neck as he speaks.

“That was your plan,” you remind him, pulling his strong arms tighter around you. He hums, pressing light kisses to whatever part of you he can reach, nosing at your hair in between them. “It’s not even ten.”

You feel his lips turn up into a smile for a brief moment before the kisses resume, “Then go back to sleep.”

Wriggling in his hold, you eventually flip over, coming face to face with a half lidded, sleepy, smiling Sam and your breath catches in your throat. He’s gorgeous and you don’t know how you got so lucky. “Can’t,” you say quietly, afraid that you’ll wake him up for good and lose this relaxed, sleep rumpled angel, “someone’s keeping me up.” You reach up and cup his face, your thumb running along his bottom lip. 

He nips at it playfully and chuckles, “I’m sure he has a good reason to.”

You narrow your eyes playfully before leaning in, pressing your lips against his. It’s a gentle kiss, one that lingers and shares all the warm, happy feelings that make your toes tingle. “And what reason is that,” you ask, kissing his chin, his nose.

“To show you how much he loves you,” he whispers back, capturing your lips once again. He pulls you closer, rough hands slowly slide up your exposed back, exploring every inch of smooth skin.

You sigh into the kiss as your arms slip around his neck, your fingers tangling into his soft, thick hair. 

His tongue snakes out then, licking along your bottom lip and you invite it in with your own. 

You swallow his groan as he does yours. And your bodies move as one, him rolling on top, gently guiding you onto your back. It’s a fluid movement, one made without thought or instruction. 

He slots himself between your willingly parted thighs and the kiss deepens, becomes less about love and more about need. He needs to touch every inch of you, taste your mouth, your skin, your sex. He needs to hear each breathless sigh and sweet moan you make as he reminds you over and over how much you mean to him.

But you need him, too. You need to feel calloused hands on your hunter scared body, praising you with his mouth and tongue, reminding you that he’s there and real and loves you so much with every thrust of his hips. 

“You’re perfect,” he breathes against your neck, teeth biting at your pulse.

You tilt your head back with a gasp, giving him all the access he needs and thensome, “Hardley.”

He licks at the bite and nuzzles your jaw with his nose, “Perfect for me.”

“That I will not argue,” you laugh, a smile breaking out on your face and you scratch at his scalp.

He leans back into your hands, his mouth leaving you to let out a happy groan, eyes closed and lips parted.

You snort, nails scratching at him lightly and he’s practically melting into your hands, “You like that?” 

Sam can’t say a word, your fingers are like magic and he’s two seconds away from panting like a happy pup. When he stop, he whines, cracking open one eye with a pout on his lips. “Why’d you stop?”

“I can keep going,” you smile, scratching lightly, “if I can get another kiss.”

The pout slips into a smile and he leans down, whatever hair that isn’t twisted around your fingers falls around his face. His lips once again meets yours, a sweet, gentle kiss is shared before he’s nuzzling up against your hands once more.

You laugh, loud and free and he snorts, “I think you’re addicted.”

“To you,” he nods, scratching himself on your nails. “Please?”

It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes, but you manage and give him what he wants, massaging his scalp. His body collapses on top of you, his face hides in your neck with his arms wrapped around you as you continue your work. “I spoil you,” you sigh and Sam snickers, nuzzling into your skin and plants a kiss to the small red bite he gave you just moments before.

“I’m worth it,” he teases before he starts in on making his lovemark even bigger, sucking your skin into his mouth, licking at it as if it were make of cream, unforgiving teeth that sink down and rake across your skin.

It’s hard to keep focused when he’s marking you, your body reacting and trying to arch off the bed, but his weight pins you down. “Sam,” you warn breathlessly, your hands stilling. He makes no effort stop. In fact, he doubles his efforts, nipping from his mark down to your collarbone. He takes his time to mark you, biting over some that were left from the night before. 

He’s been hard since you started in on his hair, but one whimper from you makes his hips jerk, sliding along your slick core. The feeling’s got you both moaning and he lightly thrusts again, panting against your chest. “Please,” you whisper, rolling your hips. You need to feel complete, whole, and you can’t do that without him.

“Shh,” he smiles, reaching down to line himself up, “I’ve got you, baby. Look at me.” You do your best to keep your eyes open as he slowly pushes into you, filling you up like nothing or no one ever could. You whimper as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours, and he’s got the most beautiful smile on his face.

Slowly, he pulls out just enough and pushes in with one smooth, hard stroke, setting a lazy pace. He leans down to kiss you once more, your tongues moving against one another and he snaps his hips over and over. You’re moaning into each other’s mouths and when you part for air, he kissing down your jaw and eventually hides away in your neck.

He shifts you, tucking his arms under your shoulders, spreading both your hips and his so he can fuck deeper into you, trying to make the pair of you into one. You can’t really think anymore, just feel every inch of him sliding in and out of you, stretching you wide and pushing deep. Your skin is slick with sweat, a mixture of his and yours, your bodies sliding even more against one another, especially as he speeds up.

Sam’s lost in you as well, every thrust is followed by a grunt or a low moan, rumbling deep in his chest. He’s holding onto you like you’re going to leave him, but you aren’t, you won’t. His mouth is open against your skin, hot and heavy breaths hitting you with each pound of his hips. He wants to make it last forever, you can tell he’s holding back, but it won’t and you’re sad that it can’t. 

“Love you,” he pants against your neck, shifting his hips to find your sweet spot, “so fucking much.”

You nod, forgetting how to speak every time Sam fucks you like this, like it’s his last day on Earth. But you don’t have to say it, he knows, he can feel it, especially when he’s inside of you and your love squeezes around him. But you manage, “Fuck, Sam,” when he hits you just right, making your toes curl. He lets loose, driving into you harder, faster, making you squeeze your eyes shut until your belly coils. Your hands are still in his hair, twisting tight and pulling, and he loves it. 

The room is filled with the sound of your whimpers and his grunts, skin on skin. It’s the sound of love and it’s music to your ears. “Y/N,” he huffs, pulling back to look down at you once more, not once stilling himself. 

You look up and nod, on edge, just like him. He captures your mouth once more with a brutal kiss and slips a hand between the both of you, thumb searching out for your clit. When you gasp into his mouth, he rolls the bud beneath his finger and his thrusts become more erratic.

You’re the first to go, your body arching off the bed, Sam’s name a mantra on your tongue. He rides it out, feeling you lose yourself around him and taking in every moan and inch of skin you’re displaying. He’s going to burn the memory into his brain for the rest of his life. “Beautiful,” he breathes as you collapse back on the bed.

“Sam,” you whine and try to meet his hips with your own, but your body is in post-orgasmic bliss. He just smiles and falls onto his forearms, your hands on his biceps, and he starts to go at it for his own sake, you doing your best to squeeze him. 

He fucks into you hard and fast and it doesn’t take long until he’s filling you, deep and full. There’s a string of expletives that come out of his mouth and he tries his best not to fall on top of you, but he does and you’re okay with that. When he tries to move and pull out, you wrap your thighs around him and shake your head, “Stay, just a little longer.”

And he does, until he shrinks and slips out mostly on his own. “You’re amazing, do you know that,” he laughs, finally rolling off of you, but immediately pulling you to rest against him.

“You were doing all the work,” you remind him, draping an arm across his stomach, this time tucking your face in his neck. You can feel him dripping out of you and normally, you’d want to get up and shower immediately, but you’re pretty sure you can’t walk. “Hungry,” you mumble, eyes slipping closed.

“Oatmeal or pancakes,” he yawns, long fingers idly dancing along your shoulders. 

“Bacon and cheese omelette with the biggest cup of coffee I can get,” you decide, forcing yourself to sit up once your heartbeat steadies. He whines when you move away, wanting to bask in the afterglow a little more. “Shower with me and I’ll make breakfast.”

The offer is too tempting to not accept, so he rolls out of bed and scoops you up, carrying you through the bunker. 

“Put some fucking clothes on,” you hear your brother shout as you pass his open door, but the two of you just giggle and disappear into the showers, probably forgetting to lock the door on your way in.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go on a witch hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot and heavy kisses, some touching. Fluff. Unbeta’d.
> 
> I’m having too many Sam feels lately. It hurts.

Your first big, official fight with Sam is on a hunt. It’s been over a year since that night in Texas, but it’s been the best damn year of your life. It hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, you’ve had your disagreements, every couple does, but you’ve always talked it through.

But then you pair up for a witch hunt in Louisiana and it was supposed to be a simple case, then you planned to spend a couple of days in New Orleans on a mini-vacation. But it doesn’t turn out like you thought it would, she gets away but not before you get hexed and start trying to jump anything on two legs. It’s not like you can help it and Sam knows it, deep down he does, but damn if it doesn’t drive him crazy.

He does his best to keep you locked up while he tries to gank the bitch that did it, but you want to be out there to help him. And that’s where the argument begins.

“Y/N,” he frowns at you even though you have your hands running up and down his chest, kissing at the side of his mouth. “Baby, stop, listen to me.”

“I’m listening, Sam,” you pant against his lips and your hands travel south, hooking at the waist of his jeans and dance dangerously close to the button. 

He grabs your hands, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “You need to stay here, okay? I can’t look out for the witch and keep an eye on you, too.”

Your face twists in anger, but you press closer to him despite yourself and you kiss along Sam’s jaw, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, Y/N, that’s not what this is about,” he grits through his teeth and forces himself away from you. “It’s one thing to flirt with the waitress and the maintenance guy and the librarian and the guy at the gas station, but you can’t compromise the hunt.”

“I’m not compromising anything, Sam,” you snap and rush back towards him and kiss him hard. He freezes for half a second and kisses you back, large hands cupping your face, the two of you trying to dominate the other. It lasts for only a few seconds and you part, breathing heavily and glaring at each other. 

“Please,” he says pleadingly, “stay here?”

“You stay here,” you retort childishly. He’s got his hands on his hips and he rolls his eyes, looking away from you to keep his cool. “Sam,” you change your tone, easy and sweet and slide up to him, hands on him once more, sliding up his chest and into his hair. 

His head is still turned away, but you kiss him everywhere and you can tell he’s holding back. The way his jaw ticks means he’s upset and you want to stop yourself, but you can’t. You need him. “Baby,” he tries again, voice shaking slightly, “we know where she is, I can take care of this and you’ll be fine. Just… let me go, okay?”

You kiss towards his lips once again and he lets you, you moan into his mouth and your hands are everywhere, but he doesn’t touch you. “Sammy,” you whine, trying to climb your tall, gorgeous mountain of a boyfriend, “love me.”

“I do love you,” he frowns, but keeps his stance even though he’s eating up all of your kisses. Your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt. He finally turns to you and looks down, watching as each button pops free from its home. “The case, Y/N.”

“The case,” you parrot and push the flannel off his shoulders and get your hands under the grey shirt that remained. “We’re working the case.” He stares down at you, obviously having mixed feelings about this. 

“We’re not working the case if you’re trying to get into my pants,” he absently licks his lips, then your nails rake over his nipples and he hisses. “No, I can’t, not when you’re like this.” He regains his senses in that moment and he removes your hands from his shirt. Your wrists are locked in his strong grip and he leads you to the nearest chair, pushes you down into it. “Stay.”

You wriggle in the chair, nose flaring, and your nails latch onto the plastic armrest. Your eyes rake over his long, broad frame and the hard look on his face has you aching. He’s upset with you and all you want to do is jump his bones. “At least let me suck you off before you go?”

There is hesitation on Sam’s part, like he’s actually considering it. “Stay,” he says again and grabs the shirt you tossed away. “I’ll be back soon. Do not leave this room.” Once his shirt is on, he grabs the gun from under his pillow, chambers a bullet and you moan. He lifts a brow at you and you’re crossing your legs, barely holding yourself together. “Stop it,” he rolls his eyes and tucks the gun into the back of his pants as he heads to the door.

“Sam,” you exhale when he slips on his jacket. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”

His gaze narrows and you see the wheels turning. He cautiously moves over to you and leans down to place a gentle peck on your lips and you groan into it, trying to follow his lips as he backs away. “It won’t take long, I promise.” He gives you another sweet kiss and you immediately grab his coat and try to devour his soul. For a few good, long moments he lets you have your way before he’s stumbling back and catching his breath. 

“Love you, Sammy,” you smile and try to get out of the chair, but he points at you and you fall back into your seat. 

“Behave,” he sighs and hurries out of the door before you can do anything else.

It takes all of two minutes before you’re out of the chair and the room. Sam traced the witch to a house in a suburb outside of the city, housewife getting her hex on against the PTA and anyone else that looked at her the wrong way. You hijack some beater and take it out to find Sam’s Mustang parked two blocks away from the target’s house.

You pull up behind his car and pop his trunk with the spare key you carry with you and get your own gear. Luckily for you, there’s no one the street to distract you as you not so casually make your way to knockoff June Cleaver’s house with her stupid white picket fence and two story colonial. Maybe you’re a little jealous of her, you won’t lie to yourself. She’s got everything you want or you thought you wanted until you got in “the life”, but she’s risking it all because of petty bullshit and some black magic. Stupid cow.

When you get close enough, you hear crashing inside and a cry of pain from Sam. Gun out, you rush in to find your boyfriend on one side of the foyer and Bewitched on the other. “Hiya, Housewife Barbie,” you smile, your finger hovering just around the trigger. “I’ll give you two seconds to apologize for giving Sam a bad day before I pop you full of candy.”

She sneers at you and before you can get a shot off, you’re doubled over in pain, it’s like your bones are on fire and not in the good kind of way. You fall to the floor like a sack of potatoes and hear Sam call out your name. “It’s sweet that you two hunt together,” she coos, walking into the foyer where you’re laying on the ground. “But not the best idea, is it?”

“Nope,” Sam replies and shoots her between the eyes before she could continue her monologue. He rushes over and collects you, holding you to his chest until you don’t feel like jelly. “I thought I told you to stay at the hotel?”

You laugh weakly and find enough strength to sit up on your own, “What? And miss the chance for you to be my hero?” 

He huffs a sigh and tugs you in for a kiss, one full of relief and annoyance. “So,” he says when he pulls away, “how do you feel, still wanna jump my bones?”

A grin splits your face and you wiggle your brows, “Baby, I didn’t need to be hexed to want that.” He shakes his head and chuckles, helping you stand. “C’mon, let’s dump the body and get to my vaca,” you shove at his shoulder. “I was promised a ghost tour and a whole lotta sex.”

—-

Sam keeps his promise and takes you to New Orleans. He finds a cute B&B in the French Quarter with a big metal four poster bed and large French doors that lead to a balcony which overlooks the city.

Neither of you waste time and break in the bed, with that post-hunt, why didn’t you listen to me, you could’ve gotten hurt or killed kind of sex. It starts off nice and slow and by the end of it, you’re on your hands and knees, Sam wrapped around you from behind and buried as deep as he can be.

A shower is next, you dine in your room, out on the balcony, a bottle of wine between you. You’re curled up on a bench seat, his arm slung around your shoulders, your head resting on his. The sun is setting and it’s a cool evening, it’s perfect. “Do you think you could ever have the Apple Pie Life,” you ask, holding on tight to the glass in your hands.

He’s caught off guard by the question, but his brow punches in thought. “No,” he shakes his head, “well, definitely not in suburbia.” He turns to look at you, face softening and gives your shoulders a squeeze. “You want to be a minivan soccer mom?”

“God no,” you scoff. “I mean, maybe one day, the mom thing, when I don’t have to worry about a Rugaru eating off my face.”

Sam stills for a moment, searching every inch of your face and smiles sadly, “I’m not sure that day is gonna come.” You know it’s true, but it’s always nice to dream.

“But if it does,” you ask hesitantly.

“Are you…” He starts but you immediately shake your head.

“I wouldn’t be drinking,” you reassure him. “I’m just saying, if I ever do get that kind of life, I’d want it with you.”

That takes his breath away and he doesn’t know what to do with himself until he kisses your sanity away. “Me too,” he says when you’re both breathless. “I mean, that’s why we’re here.” You blink your confusion and he pulls out a tiny black box. “I know it we haven’t been together long, but I know what you mean to me, Y/N. And I don’t know how much time either of us has, but I want to spend it knowing that I could have you forever.” He awkwardly detaches himself from you and gets down on a knee, taking your left hand and pops open the box. “Will you marry me?”

You’re completely frozen in shock, not expecting this at all, so he starts to panic a little, but before he implodes, you launch yourself at him with an, “Oh God, Sam, yes!”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s five days until the wedding, Sam wants you to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worried!Reader. Fluff. FEELS. Unbeta’d.
> 
> I would like to thank each and every person who takes the time to read my shitty writing. It means the world to me that anyone would even bother, so from the bottom of my heart... thank you. I love you. Marry me?

Planning a wedding is hard work. You wouldn’t do it if Mary hadn’t insisted on you two having one. You’d rather fly to Vegas, drive through with Elvis giving out the I-do’s, and be done with it. But no, Dean and his wife had a proper wedding and being Sam’s date, you know how lovely it was, so you have to have one, too.

There aren’t going to be many people there, just the hunters they knew, people they brought back from another universe or something, your friends that you met along the way. It’s supposed to be a tiny wedding, so you don’t know why you have to make so many decisions. Cake flavor, cake size, cake colors and decorations. Flowers, what kind, what color, where are they going to go? Seating arrangements, table settings, what kind of food are you going to serve? You are going to implode.

The one thing you’ve enjoyed picking out is your dress. You hadn’t thought about getting married before, never in your wildest dreams did you think it was going to happen, especially after getting into the life, but now you have a ring on your finger.

You’ve gone to three different bridal shops in three different towns, Mary and your future sister-in-law, Rae, tagging along with you. This the closest thing to girl-time you’ve had in years and you thoroughly enjoy it. You try on every silhouette they have, ball gown, mermaid, but you settle for something short, you don’t want to feel confined.

Even though you’re having a lovely time with the girls and had enough wine to ease your stress, you feel like you’re never going to find the perfect dress. Mary tries her best to encourage you, keep the smile on your face. Rae, tells you that Sam would be happy to have you walk down the aisle in the buff if you needed to. They’re sweet and lovely, they really are, but you just want to find a dress and be done with it.

When you hit the fourth shop of the day, trying dress after dress, you want to give up and just forget about it, you’ll put on jeans and flannel and you’re sure Sam wouldn’t blame you. While Mary tries to speak with the consultant about what you’re looking for, you move around the store, wine glass in hand, idly checking out what else they had to offer. Prom dresses, little black numbers, and then you see it, at the end of the row, hanging pathetically on its hanger, the dress.

You set your glass who knows where and snatch the thing off the rack. It’s fate, it had to be, because it’s your size. Running over to the consultant, you shove it into his hands and tell him to get a room ready. He turns his nose up and shakes his head, “This isn’t even a wedding dress.”

“I want to try it on,” you say evenly, doing your best to not go Bridezilla, “please?”

He sighs, but agrees, motioning for you to follow him. You do, but halt when you see an accessory table and you snatch up something on the way. It doesn’t take you long to slip in the dress and put your hair up in a messy bun to wrap the vine around. When you finally make your way out of the dressing room, Mary’s almost in tears and Rae is beaming. “Perfect,” they say in unison and you ask for it to be bagged.

\---

“I want a chocolate fountain,” Sam says, flipping through Brides magazine, your feet in his lap.

You look up from your tablet and tilt your head, “Really?”

He meets your curious gaze with a boyish smile, “No. What are you reading?”

“I think I found a case,” you shrug, eyes falling back onto the screen.

Sam’s smile falls, “What? No. We said no cases until after the wedding.” He tries to snatch it from your hands, but you do your best to hold on. “Y/N, it’s in less than a week.”

“This is my bachelorette party then.” He gives you a heavy sigh and you remove your feet only to climb into his lap to face him. “It’s just a vampire, Sam,” you slip your arms around his neck.

The magazine is long gone and he’s wrapped around you, “Last time I checked, vamps can drain my bride-to-be.”

Even though you’re both trading kisses, you can’t help but to feel a little offended, “I can take out a simple vamp with my eyes closed.” Sensing your anger, he does his best to soothe it, nudging your nose with his and kissing you until you melt against him. “I hate it when you do that.”

Sam has the brightest smile on his face once again and nips at the tip of your nose, “Do what?” You sigh heavily, but you know you’re not going to win this. “Dean and I will take care of the vampire, you stay here and relax.” He lifts a hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and you lean into his touch. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you surrender, “but only because your mom wants me to go shopping for wedding favors.” Sam’s face softens and he kisses the breath out of you. “What?”

“Five days and you’re mine,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I’m already yours,” you snort, but kiss him until his groaning and pulling you closer. “But in five days I’ll be Mrs. Y/N Winchester,” just the sound of it on your tongue has him peacocking. “You like that?”

Sam shakes his head, “I love it.” You lift your left hand and run it down his face, stopping to cup his cheek. He turns in your touch and kisses the ring on your finger. “And I love you.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you snicker, but you’re eating it up. “The case is about four hours away. Go be a hero and I’ll be waiting for you when you get back,” you whispers, pecking his lips between words, “with nothing on but my smile.”

He growls and picks you up as he stands, your legs wrapping around him as you go. With little effort, he carries you through the halls to your room and lays you on the bed, hovering above you, hair falling around his face like a halo. He kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, your hands digging into his hair, his bracing himself around your head. “I’ll be back before dinner.” And he leaves you there to go find Dean.

“I hate you,” you call out to him. And you receive an, “I know,” in return.

But Sam isn’t home by dinner. You honestly didn’t expect him to be, but at least a call would be nice. You’re sitting in the War Room with Mary and Rae, bagging the million chocolates that are part of your favors and your eyes fall to your phone. “They’re fine,” Mary sighs. “You said it was just a vampire, right? That’s like a walk in the park for the boys.”

“But what if it isn’t,” you counter. “What if it’s something else?”

“Dean would’ve called,” Rae reassures you, tying the cellophane bag with a white ribbon. “I’m sure they’re fine. Here, help me with these?” She pushes baggies full of candy your way and you twist and tie until you’re dizzy.

It’s near 11 and not a word from the boys. You ignore the ladies’ words of comfort and dial Sam, it goes straight to his voicemail. You simply say, “Call me,” and try his other cell, which leads to a repeat. You even call Dean and get the same result. You’re panicking now because Mary is right, one vamp shouldn’t be an issue.

You pace your room, phone clutched in your hand, the thought of getting in your car and heading their way is bouncing around in your head. Sam would be upset if you showed up, though, especially when they weren’t in trouble. You made a silent promise, he expects you to keep it.

“They’re fine,” your brother sighs, leaning against your doorway. “You do realize that they kill demons on the regular, right? Even if it’s a nest, they’ll be guchi.” You scowl at him because you know he’s right, but that’s not going to stop you from worrying it. “I get it, okay? You’re getting married, Sam’s like the love of your life or whatever, but he’s fine.”

“You are not making this any better,” you tell him, shoving him out of the room and punching his arm when he laughs.

And then your phone rings and your face lights up, “Sammy?”

“Hey, baby,” he breathes heavily and you can hear the rumble of the Impala in the background.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. There was no reception on that side of town, is everything okay,” he asks like he’s the one that needs to be worried.

You flop on the bed and exhale all the bad thoughts that were going through your mind, “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just thought…”

“No, we’re fine. It was a small nest, took a bit to find, but they’re gone,” he answers without you needing to finish. You can hear Dean’s gruff in the background and Sam chuckles softly. “Yeah, definitely need a shower, though. Dinner, too.”

“I’ll go make something right now,” you pop up and hear him laugh.

“We’ll get something on the way home,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “Just relax, okay? I don’t need my bride stressed out a week out from our wedding.” You hear Dean gag beside him and there’s scuffling and laughter between the two. “Take a deep breath and close your eyes.”

You do as you’re told and your body calms the tiniest bit just from his voice alone. “You’ll wake me when you get home?”

“Maybe,” he teases. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you return and the call ends with more fake gagging from Dean.

It’s nearly six in the morning when they get back, Sam having already hit the shower, hair still wet, body warm and slightly damp to the touch when he crawls into bed with you, hugging you from behind. You stir and turn to face him, half asleep, but happy that he returned to you in one piece. “Welcome home,” you smile.

“You kept your promise,” he murmurs against your lips, large, warm hand ghosting over your bare back and bottom, giving it a squeeze.

You hum in acknowledgement and push at his shoulders until he’s lying back and you crawl on top of him to straddle his waist. His hands take their time to explore your skin, touching every inch with the rough pads of his fingers. You lean down, tangle your fingers through his wet strands.

He leans up to meet your lips, the kiss is a slow burn bubbling the blood in your veins. How could anyone make you feel so weak and vulnerable, yet strong and stable? You would die for this man and you couldn’t live without him now that he’s so deep under your skin. Being apart from him is like being without air.

You pull away, panting down with kiss swollen lips and pupils blown wide. You stare at him in utter disbelief, so incredibly in love with him that you can’t even form words.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Sam says breathlessly, running a hand down your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, “for the rest of my life.”

“And after,” you finish, tears falling from your eyes and onto his chest.


End file.
